Dieg. Ye are early stirring Sir.
Phil. Give me your Candle
And so good morrow for a while.
Dieg. Good morrow Sir. [Exit.
Theo. My Brother Don Philippo: nay Sir, kill me
I ask no mercy Sir, for none dare know me,
I can deserve none: As ye look upon me
Behold in infinite these foul dishonors,
My noble Father, then your self, last all
That bear the name of kindred, suffer in me:
I have forgot whose child I am; whose Sister:
Do you forget the pity tied to that:
Let not compassion sway you: you will be then
As foul as I, and bear the same brand with me,
A favourer of my fault: ye have a sword Sir,
And such a cause to kill me in.
Phil. Rise Sister,
I wear no sword for Women: nor no anger
While your fair chastity is yet untouch'd.
Theo. By those bright Stars, it is Sir.
Phil. For my Sister
I do believe ye: and so neer blood has made us
With the dear love I ever bore your virtues
That I will be a Brother to your griefs too:
Be comforted, 'tis no dishonor Sister
To love, nor to love him you do: he is a Gentleman
Of as sweet hopes, as years, as many promises,
As there be growing Truths, and great ones.
Theo. O Sir[!]
Phil. Do not despair.
Theo. Can ye forgive?